“First, as I’m sure you’ve been informed by counsel, Star-fleet’s Judge Advocate General has declined to prosecute your civilian companion, Timothy Pennington. While this board might not agree with the JAG’s decision, we have taken its leniency toward Mister Pennington into account during our deliberations.

“Second, having reviewed your unexpurgated medical file, including its most recent entries by Doctor Jabilo M’Benga, which detail the nature of the unusual mental affliction from which you suffered for more than five decades, this court agrees with your counsel that you were acting in a state of diminished capacity at the time of the events for which you stand accused.

“Third, because the information you gathered regarding criminal organizations operating in the Taurus Reach has proved to be accurate and strategically useful, and because you risked your safety and your life to aid in the rescue of Starfleet covert operatives on Golmira, this board has given serious consideration to your counsel’s petition for leniency.”

Nogura frowned, then sighed. “Unfortunately, as heroic and useful as many of your actions over the past year might be, none of them is sufficient to excuse the criminal actions of which you stand accused. It would be a grave threat to discipline if we were simply to expunge your record as a reward for your decision to engage in rogue intelligence activities.”

The admiral looked first to Khatami then to Desai, who both responded with grave nods. He looked back at T’Prynn. “This board has reached its unanimous verdict,” he said. “Are you ready to hear its decision?”

T’Prynn held her chin up. “I am, Your Honor.”

“On the charge and specifications of unlawfully tampering with official Starfleet medical records, this court finds Lieutenant Commander T’Prynn guilty.

“On the charge and specifications of willfully making fraudulent statements under oath, this court finds Lieutenant Commander T’Prynn guilty.

“On the charge and specifications of going absent without leave, this court finds Lieutenant Commander T’Prynn guilty.

“On the charge and specifications of fleeing Starfleet prosecution, this court finds Lieutenant Commander T’Prynn guilty.

“On the charge and specifications of dereliction of duty, this court finds Lieutenant Commander T’Prynn … not guilty.”

A pall descended on the courtroom. No one spoke for several seconds. The only sounds were muted clicks and beeps from the recording computer.

Folding his hands, Nogura asked, “Do you wish to make any statement before this court issues its sentencing decision?”

T’Prynn remained at attention. “No, Your Honor.”

“Very well,” he said. “Lieutenant Commander T’Prynn, it is the ruling of this court that you be immediately reduced two grades in rank, to lieutenant, junior grade. Your security clearance is reduced to level two. Two official reprimands will be entered into your official Starfleet record—one for tampering with your medical file, the other for going AWOL.

“Furthermore, you will be placed on disciplinary probation for a period of five years. During this probation, you will be barred from advancing in rank and from any increase in your security clearance. If, during your probation, you incur so much as a reprimand, you will be subject to a summary dishonorable discharge from Starfleet service, as well as imprisonment.

“Do you understand the terms of your sentence, Lieutenant?”

“Yes, sir,” T’Prynn replied.

“Do you wish to challenge the verdict or sentence of this court?”

“No, sir.”

Nogura picked up his striker. “Then these proceedings are closed, and this court stands adjourned.” The admiral tapped the bell, then stood from his chair. Khatami and Desai got up with him, and together the court-martial board exited the courtroom.

Lieutenant Moyer looked thunderstruck. “I can’t believe it,” she muttered. Grinning, the young redhead turned toward T’Prynn. “We did it! Congratulations!”

“Thank you, sir,” T’Prynn said. Facing the empty bench, she realized she had done exactly what she had set out to do.

Now all she had to do was live with it.

55

“I just wanted to congratulate you on staying out of jail,” Pennington said as he and T’Prynn strolled along a path through Fontana Meadow in Vanguard’s enormous terrestrial enclosure.

“It would be more appropriate to commend my legal counsel,” T’Prynn said, missing the gist of his sentiment as Vulcans so often did. “Her labor secured my relatively light sentence.”

Pennington sighed. “I simply meant that your plan to work your way back into Starfleet’s good graces was a success.”

“True. Though I might not have succeeded without your help.” With a sidelong look she added, “I am in your debt, Tim.”

He reacted with mild surprise. “I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you call me by my first name.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Indeed.”

They passed by a cluster of off-duty Starfleet personnel playing soccer on one of the lawns near the buildings of Stars Landing. Two men, a brawny human and a lanky Vulcan, stutter-stepped around the black-and-white-checkered ball, vying for control until the Vulcan seized possession and broke away on a charge toward his opponents’ goal, trailed by the other players.

T’Prynn asked, “So, will you be staying on Vanguard now that Starfleet has dropped its charges against you?”

“For a while. I just signed a lease on a new apartment.” Searching the Vulcan woman’s face for any hint of what might be going on under its surface, he asked, “And you?”

“My successor, Commander ch’Nayla, has requested I remain on Vanguard under his supervision,” she said. “I am not permitted to share any details beyond that.”

Pennington nodded. “I understand.”

They stopped in front of the meadow’s ornate fountain. High above their heads, its towering plume of water dispersed and became a fine mist that bent the enclosure’s ersatz daylight into a rainbow. The cool spray kissed Pennington’s face as it fell to the ground, drawn by the pull of artificial gravity.

He sensed T’Prynn was hesitating to say something, but he waited for her to find the right words in her own time. After several seconds, she turned halfway toward him. “Tim … my superiors would like to know how much of our shared experience from the past year will be appearing in your future published writings.”

It was not an unexpected question.

“None of it,” he said.

She looked perplexed. “I do not understand. You are not sworn to secrecy, and as a civilian you have the right to speak and publish freely. Why suppress such information now?”

He tucked his hands in his pockets and smiled at her.

“Call it a wedding present.”

56

Where did this year go?

That question nagged at Dr. Ezekiel Fisher as he went about his evening routine. In a few days he would turn another page on the calendar and mark the passing of another cycle of time.

And take another step toward death,he brooded.

Morbid thoughts plagued him with increasing frequency now that he was alone on the station.

Diego Reyes was more than a year gone; his service record had listed him as dead until a recent report from T’Prynn upgraded his status to missing in action.

It had been almost as long since Ambassador Jetanien had departed the station on an indefinite leave of absence. Though the Chelon was normally talkative to a fault, he had been adamantly secretive about his destination and his reasons for leaving. Fisher had never been close with Jetanien, but they had shared a bond because of their mutual friendship with Diego.